


Room and Pillar

by HenriettaDarlington



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drunk Sex, Flashbacks, Friends With Benefits, I maintain this is the most tragic pairing in all of TF canon, Jealousy, Like if you read IDW with a focus on Rumble and Frenzy You'll See, M/M, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HenriettaDarlington/pseuds/HenriettaDarlington
Summary: Rumble looks back and tries to figure out where things went wrong.
Relationships: Background Megatron/Starscream, Megatron/Rumble
Comments: 3
Kudos: 40





	Room and Pillar

No way Megatron wrote his own concession speech. Anyone who ever actually met him would have been able to tell. 

The turns of phrase were all wrong. Even if he decided one day to give up -- something so unlike him he ought to get his processor checked to make sure it was still in his helm -- he’d never bother addressing the organic issue. Megatron personally oversaw entire species going extinct because Shockwave wanted to see if he could pulp them and turn the leftovers into energon. If that didn’t turn his stomach, no soppy lecture by a moralizing Autobot would change his mind.

Megatron must have realized how ridiculous he sounded claiming he had a last second change of heart, even if his speechwriter didn’t. Probably stung, reading it where everybody could hear.

If they left that part out, Rumble might have bought it. The tone wasn’t too far off from his old stuff. It was the organic line. Didn't make any sense. Guess Prime just couldn’t resist sticking it in. 

Not that any Prime in the history of Cybertron knew how to do that.

“You’re just making yourself feel worse.”

Rumble sat up so fast he fell off the couch. They needed some carpeting. The sound he made when he hit the floor echoed in their dumpy little warehouse.

Frenzy never missed a chance to kick him when he was down. His foot glanced Rumble’s head. “No matter how many times you listen, it’s not going to change.”

“Think I don’t know that?”

“Apparently not, because you’ve been replaying the speech all day. It’s getting annoying.” Frenzy grabbed Rumble’s wrist and tried to hoist him up.

Rumble didn’t let him. He went slack. Nothing worse than trying to move deadweight. “I never complain when you play your stupid hair metal all night long. At least I’m keeping it in my own H.U.D.”

“We share a brain. You’re not being as private as you think you are.”

On close inspection, Rumble noticed he had let their private comm line creep open. They almost always left it on. Sue him for not paying attention.

“It’s been a month. You need to find something else to do.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, man. Go smash some mailboxes. Shoot some endangered animals. Learn to drive.”

Rumble laughed.

“I’ve been thinking about it! It’d be kind of fun. We’d never have to rely on some bolthead who owes us a favor again.”

“We don’t have to now. We have motorcycle alts.”

“I’m sick of them. I get cold, riding around like that.” Frenzy rubbed his palms together.

They both missed travelling with climate control. Soundwave’s chest compartment had been cozy. Maybe learning to drive would be fun. It’d be funny, if nothing else. They could start carjacking the random humans that drove by. 

Not that many came this far into the Nevada desert. Just boring families on road trips. Their cars weren’t even cool.

“All I’m saying,” Frenzy slid off the couch and sat down next to Rumble. “You’re still letting him get to you. Like it or not, the war’s over.”

Rumble clenched his fists. His pile-drivers itched. “Well, you wouldn’t get it. You don’t even remember half the war.”

Low blow. Rumble immediately regretted it. He could see Frenzy’s optics flash white-hot in his peripheral vision. Neither of them said anything for a while.

“I don’t care if you take my advice. All I’m saying is that it’s pathetic to spend all your time crying over an ex.”

* * *

New York looked a lot like Iacon, but most cities looked the same after you shell them for long enough.

It wasn’t a bad view, perse. Better than another trench full of dead things on some freezing asteroid. Better than another empty lightyear of space, without even any stars to tell a mech where he is. See one ruined city, you’ve seen them all.

Rumble was sick of taking potshots at snivelling aliens. 

The Nemesis was quiet. Whenever they were docked planetside, everybody spent as little time as possible on the ship. It was the only way to keep from going stir crazy during the thousand year trips between star systems. Decepticons came back to sleep and to drink, that’s all.

Good thing he wasn’t looking for A Decepticon. Rumble wanted to talk to The Decepticon. 

Megatron didn’t lock his door. Pretty stupid. Back in Tarn he used to push their couch in front of the door, just to make sure nobody snuck in while they were recharging. Gladiators made too much money not to be burglary targets.

A warlord is a very different thing than a gladiator. 

Megatron was brooding again.

“Hey, boss.” Rumble waved all jaunty-like. He needed to test the waters first.

Megatron was in his huge throne, hunched over a datapad. Battle plans, probably. Starscream had been up everyone's exhaust about how they needed to be more strategic. Apparently they were ‘wasting energon terrorizing worthless aliens’. Megatron glared at him, but that was also just what Meg’s face looked like most cycles. “Something to report?”

As if Soundwave ever missed a chance to deliver reports on his own. Rumble shook his head. “Can’t a mech drop by and say hi?”

Megatron huffed, but he let the datapad drop to the floor. Good sign. “Should I presume you’re here for a favor? What did you break this time?”

“I didn’t break anything!” Rumble protested. He hadn’t gone to Megatron asking for help since his pile-drivers punched a hole in the ship’s wall. That was like, two million years ago. “I just want to talk. That a crime now?”

“If it was, I suppose we would both be in the brig by now.” 

“Exactly! Acting like you’re the only one allowed to start a conversation. That’s why you’re stuck here sitting in the dark. Nobody can invite you anywhere because they’re too scared.”

“And why should I accept an invitation? Nothing on this planet can give me the thrill of a real battle.” Melodramatic much? Megatron took himself deadly serious.

Did he hear himself? Rumble wanted to smack him and tell him to go find a fight, if he wanted one so bad. But that would be stupid, even by his standards. He needed Megatron in a good mood. “Just saying, you might find something if you went looking.”

“Perhaps.”

They lapsed into silence. 

Rumble scuffed his foot on the floor. “Anyway, boss, about why I came here.”

Megatron stayed quiet. He was giving Rumble nothing to work with.

“I was hoping, see, that maybe can Hook take out Frenzy’s sonic weapons?” Rumble asked as quick as he could.

Megatron flickered his optics at him. “Pardon?”

“Can Hook take out Frenzy’s sonic weapons?” Rumble repeated slower. “It’s just, he can’t even really get deployed anymore. He doesn’t attack the humans, he’s started attacking other cons, he doesn’t really get the meaning of ‘friendly fire’ anymore, you know? And I figured it’d be easier for everyone if Hook put some dampers on him or something, he doesn’t have to shut them down all the way if you don’t want him to-”

“Rumble.” Megatron put his hand up. “Do you believe I am unaware of these issues?”

“No, but-” Rumble didn’t give a shit about any of those problems actually. What he cared about was the fact Frenzy couldn’t even feel himself anymore. The energon boiled in his tanks and he sicked it back up. Now they mainlined it straight into his veins. 

“Don’t interrupt me.” Megatron snapped. 

Rumble hunched up his shoulders. Megatron interrupted him first. Not that he could say that.

“I understand it must be frustrating to be stuck dragging him along on a leash. If you’d like, I might be willing to see him deployed with someone else. I’m not an unreasonable mech.” 

Except that if anybody else was left in charge of Frenzy, Rumble’s brother would almost certainly be brought back even more catatonic than usual. Nobody else knew when he was reaching his limits, when he was about to snap and start clawing at his own face instead of other people’s.

“Come here.”

Rumble stiffened up. He knew what that tone of voice meant. “Boss, I shouldn’t waste anymore of your time.”

“Nonsense. If Starscream wants an orbital laser, he should be the one approving Hook’s schematics. This is a far better use of my time.”

Rumble shut off his optics, then brought them back on. Okay, no getting out of it. 

When Megatron leaned down to pick him up, he took initiative and climbed into his lap. When Megatron grabbed his aft so hard his armor nearly caved in, he pretended he liked it. None of this was new, even if it wasn’t how things had been twelve million years ago.

Rumble focused on the good things. Megatron’s warm EM field enveloped him. It settled his down in a way Soundwave’s never could. 

Primus, at least Megatron paid attention to other mech’s spikes, unlike some creeps Rumble could mention. 

It could be worse, even if it could be better too.

* * *

Not to sound like a functionalist, but there can’t be a more useless alt mode than a cassette tape. Being a handheld drill means a mech will break sooner rather than later. At least it gives him a purpose. It was a miserable job -- no two ways about it -- but having some purpose is better than having none.

At this point, somebody ought to just pop out their t-cogs and toss them out the airlock for all the good they do. Rumble felt more like a monoformer than a real mech.

“I think my optics are going to melt and run down my faceplates.” Frenzy ducked underneath the showerhead. The oil sizzled as soon as it hit his head.

“Ew.” Rumble was standing guard by the door. The washracks were a bad place to get caught alone after a mission.

“I’ll have to start echo- echola- doing that thing Ratbat does to find his way around.”

Rumble hummed noncommittally.

“Just you wait,” Frenzy stood up so fast his optics blurred in the dark. For a moment, it did look like they were smearing down his face. “This is all some kind of plot by Soundwave! He wants to make us reliant on him. Next thing you know he’ll be plugged up these dumb spindles, mindcontrolling us the way Bombshell does his buggy little drones.” Frenzy jammed his finger in one of the new ports on his chest. It must have hurt, because he flinched hard.

“Quit that!” Rumble grabbed his wrist. “You’re freaking me out.”

Frenzy slouched. 

“I’m not any happier about this than you are!” Rumble shouted. He shouldn’t yell at Frenzy. It just made his brother’s weird neuroses worse. “Think I like getting treated like a datastick? Think this is what I signed up for?” 

“No.” Frenzy yanked his arm away. Great, now he was sulking.

Rumble rubbed his forehead. Primus, he was exhausted. Another battle wasted. It’s not that he didn’t like Soundwave. The mech could be a lot of fun when you knew which buttons to push. 

“I’m not going back inside Soundwave’s stupid chest.”

“Not tonight at least.” Rumble sighed. “I’m pretty sure you cracked his glass coming out anyway.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“You never remember anything.” Rumble took Frenzy by the wrist slowly, so he wouldn’t startle. “C’mon. We got patrol in less than a cycle. I need to sleep off your sonic scream before then or you won’t be the only one clawing your own optics out.”

* * *

Wars are different from riots.

When your rioting one mech is as good as another. As long as someone can lay out nails in the road to pop tired he’s got a place in a riot. War asked mechs for something else. Sure, Megatron could toss a dozen made-to-order genericons into the line of fire until they overwhelm the enforcers, but everyone agrees that it was a lot smarter for one mech plants a bomb before the fighting kicked off in the first place.

Rumble respected that Starscream and his seekers are some of the best soldiers Megatron ever recruited. They move across the battlefield like Primus built them just to strafe Autobots. 

Doesn’t mean they’re not the most obnoxious, stuck up airheads he’s ever met.

“Sure you’re not just jealous?” Frenzy asked.

“What?” Rumble bristled. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Other than the fact Megatron made him second in command after knowing him for less than a cycle?”

Rumble frowned.

“Or is it because he gave him his own room even though everyone else is still sleeping two to a room?” Their quarters was the size of a closet. A small one, at that. Still, it was better than the Constructicons got. They were four to a room. Scavenger slept in the medhall.

Rumble buried his face in his mattress. At least he and Frenzy didn’t have to share those, anymore. Back in the mines it was two to a bunk.

“Or is it because they’re fucking?”

“Why do I hang out with you?”

Frenzy chucked his pillow at Rumble’s head. “I’m the only person who will listen to you complain about the same thing for twenty straight cycles without smacking you stupid.”

Rumble threw the pillow back. It missed. “I just don’t get what he sees in him!”

“Wings the size of skyscrapers.” Frenzy stretched out his arms to demonstrate just how huge Starscream’s wings were.

“Since when has Megatron been a wings-mech?”

“Maybe he’s been the whole time. How would anyone know? Not like seekers were just begging for Kaonite cable.” Not like they were now, either. Starscream and his seekers avoided all the other Decepticons like they were carrying cosmic rust.

“Can you stop talking about Megatron’s array?”

“I’ll quit when you do.”

“This isn’t about who Megatron goes home with at night!” Rumble snapped. If Frenzy was in arms reach he’d punch him square in the nose. “Even you have to admit Starscream’s a good for nothing jet who looks down on everyone he meets.”

Frenzy sighed. He clambered across the gap between their beds -- barely enough for one of them to stand at a time -- and sprawled over Rumble. “I’m not saying you’re wrong to hate him. Starscream wouldn’t spit on me if I was on fire. He doesn’t even care about Megatron. He left him for dead when that tower collapsed last deca-cycle.”

“Exactly!” Rumble declared, vindicated.

Frenzy gave him a withering look. “I just don’t see what it matters to you.”

Rumble wanted to scream. “Are you being stupid on purpose?”

“Starscream will be gone by the end of the vorn.”

“Huh?”

“What do you think Megatron will do when Starscream decides a hot oil bath is more important than attending important meetings? What’s going to happen the first time we all go to bed with empty tanks and Starscream can’t stop moaning about it? We both know how mean Megatron can get when you catch him in a bad mood. I give it ten deca-cycles before Megatron wrings his neck and has him scrapped for parts.”

Rumble could picture it. Starscream was hardly the first highflyer to think he could keep Megatron in line by running hot and cold on him. What Starscream didn’t understand was that when your life was counted in vorns, you didn’t have time to play hard to get. 

Mechs in Kaon didn’t have thousands of years to sort out how they feel about someone. Nobody wanted to leave it unsaid if they were going to die in a cave-in the next cycle.

Well, he’d learn.

* * *

Gladiators drank for free.

Well, not exactly. Gladiators who won, drunk for free. Megatron never lost, not once, which meant he and his never learned how much losers coughed up if they wanted to drown themselves before their next fight.

The bar was so loud Rumble had to comm the bartender his drink order. The music was blowing out audials left and right. The room was packed to burst with people dancing or drinking or playing cards. He waved at Frenzy, who was too busy arguing with Impactor over the race on TV to wave back.

Rumble didn’t care. He had a cube of highgrade the size of his head and managed to dodge through the crowd without spilling too much. He kicked open the door to the back room. “Hey, boss, you planning on hiding back here all cycle?” 

Megatron was the handsomest mech to ever crawl out of Kaon. He had a fresh weld-scar stretching from his lower lip down his neck where that loser he fought today got him with a cheap shot. He scratched it raw and energon pink, the way he did any injury he got. 

Rumble wanted to smack his hands away before he opened it back up again. “Cybertron to Megatron, do you copy?”

Megatron finally glanced up from the datapad he was poking at. He looked goofy as the pit. The table he was sitting at was clearly built for cars, not tanks. His knees poked out from either side. “Is that for me?”

“Sure is!” Rumble dropped the cube on the table and hopped up next to it. Sitting there, he was at optic level with the swirly decals on Megatron’s chestplates. “But you have to share. I’m not your waiter.”

Megatron draped a lazy arm across Rumble’s lap and it made his armor fizz like static electricity. “I’m working on a new poem.”

“About what?” Rumble traced the chips on Megatron’s knuckles. He needed repainting.

“The pipeline explosion on Luna 2.” 

There was a beat.

“Nobody’s going to want to read that, man.” Rumble snatched up the datapad, skimming it. Mostly for show, of course. Drills weren’t programmed to be literate. Megatron taught himself that on his own time. Rumble got maybe one out of every three words. “This is depressing.”

“Good. People ought to weep over what happened up there.”

“There are easier ways to make people cry.”

“Yes?”

“Break their fingers.” Rumble wiggled his in Megatron’s face. Maybe he was being kind of a tool, but he was pretty overcharged already.

Megatron just laughed, pulling Rumble into his lap. The table nearly flipped, but they managed to keep it steady. “Stop fidgeting before you knock over my drink, fool.”

“Then stop manhandling me!” Rumble laughed. 

“Last night you claimed to be so skilled at grappling.” 

“In my weight class, you big lunkhead!” He knew Megatron had been eavesdropping when he and Frenzy were talking about their odds for the gladiatorial season.

“So you admit defeat?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rumble twisted around so he could kiss Megatron right on his stupid, handsome battle wound. “You’re the undisputed champion. You’re big and cool and I like your sad poetry. Feel better?”

Megatron stared down at him. His red optics turned the space between them pink. Not like processed energon, but like the dark veins of it they both used to dig for six miles below the surface of Cybertron.

Rumble stuck his tongue out at him.

“Open your panel.”

Nothing in the universe was better than having all five tons of Megatron bearing down on him. Under him, Rumble couldn’t hear the music outside. The world began and end with Megatron’s humming fans and gray armor. He was built to withstand a level eight mine collapse. No force on Cybertron could cave him in. That made it even sweeter when he flared out his armor so Rumble could dig his fingers underneath. Megatron shuddered when he wrapped his fingers around thick tubing, hot with fuel.

It was important they took time for foreplay. Megatron would rip him open otherwise. They weren’t fully compatible, but at only a size-class shy, they made it work. He took a peek at Megatron’s equipment and had to look away. Primus, a spike like that should be counted as a secondary weapon in the arena. It was gorgeous, the only one Rumble’d ever seen without a single biolight. It was just slate gray, the whole way down.

Megatron was murmuring something against his helm and-

“Is that your new poem?”

He paused, which wasn’t great when he was already halfway inside. Full enough to be frustrating. “It helps me set a pace.”

Rumble dragged a hand down his face. This guy would be the end of him. “I don’t want to hear about sixty mechs drowning in oil when I’m trying to overload.”

“My apologies.” Megatron rolled his optics, clearly humoring him.

“Come here.” There were plenty of better things to do with his mouth.

Things were easy after that, familiar. How many bar back rooms had they done this in? They’d been fucking for vorns. Anyone gets good with enough practice.

* * *

They were all so busy killing enforcers that nobody noticed the big guy had wandered off to sick up his rations in a corner.

“You okay?” Rumble couldn’t tell how much of that energon down his front used to be fuel and how much used to be running through somebody’s lines.

The big, gray mech wiped his mouth with his hand. “I- I murdered someone.”

“Yeah,” Rumble nodded, “It was pretty cool.”

A different kind of mech would have felt bad for doing it -- this guy clearly did -- but Rumble didn’t see the problem in cracking some skulls. It’s not that he was some nutso wannabe sparkeater, but none of those stooges working for the senate would have looked twice if he was dead in the gutter. Still, Rumble could take pity on a mech all out of sorts.

“Let’s get you washed off, alright? It’s starting to smell. What’s your name?”

“Megatron.” The mech muttered.

“I’ll give it to you straight, Megs.” Rumble grabbed his hand and tugged. It’s not like he could actually drag him around anywhere. Megatron needed to start walking of his own free will. “You killed that guy. Now, don’t go looking all sad! It’s not the end of the world. You think you’re the first mech to get fed up with the fella putting you out of a job? You just need to lay low. Go somewhere quiet.”

The hallway way streaked with pink gore. Gross. They’d need to clean that up if they were going to pawn this hunk of junk.

Megatron was quiet. Rumble filled up the silence. “Not in there, not in there. Here we go!”

They’d found the washracks.

Megatron braced himself against a wall. He really looked like he was walking into a firing squad. Rumble rolled his optics and turned on the shower.

Megatron’s jaw went slack. His shoulders slumped.

“See, nice!” Rumble grinned. “These Iacon types always have the nicest hot oil. You’re going to feel like a trillion credits.”

“And what would you know about what they have in Iacon?”

The oil being fancy was a guess based on those real glossy high res bathhouse pics Frenzy liked. Rumble just shrugged evasively, “Just made sense. Everything they’ve got is nicer than anything we’ve got.”

“Fair enough.” Megatron had a frown like one of those old busts of Zeta Prime, all stodgy and serious.

Rumble ducked his head under the shower. It slid across his visor and turned the world into a muddled rainbow. Megatron became a gray blob as big as a house.

“You never gave me your name.”

“I’m Rumble,” He waved, “Nice to meet you.”


End file.
